


What's in a Life?

by michellemagly



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I don't know I wanted to write something about these two, and not a lot of sex, maybe just heated looks across a room, maybe not even the fluff, pining?, there's gonna be fluff everywhere, who cares? read it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4767527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellemagly/pseuds/michellemagly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra struggles with feelings for Lavellan, who she reluctantly accepts as a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Life?

Cassandra rubbed her forearms and then tugged the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. She repeated this action multiple times. For one, it helped keep the snow from accumulating. Every third time she did this she would raise a hand to brush the snow from her head. There was little else to do while she watched and waited.

She had lost the feeling in her cheeks, and not even the flickering warmth from the guard’s torch offered relief. Multiple times, they had asked her if she wished to go back to camp. She always told them no. “I will wait for the Herald,” she said. It did not occur to her that the Herald might be dead, that there was no way she could survive an encounter with...with that thing. She simply had to be alive. Cassandra refused to consider an alternative.

And so the night wore on. She soon stopped being bothered by the cold. Cullen joined her and slung a pelt over her. “I won’t let you stand out here and catch your death,” he said.

“Haven’t we already?” she asked. She arched a brow at Cullen and tugged the pelt more properly over her shoulders. “Is this not what the inquisition is? A mark of death? It certainly is starting to feel like it.”

“Our soldiers knew the risks when they joined, all willingly I might add.” Cullen took a torch from the weary guard and nodded back toward the camp. The guard walked away, leaving them to together and keep watch.

Cassandra sighed and crossed her arms. The feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach was getting stronger. Like worry. Like guilt. “Some did not have a choice.” That was the heart of the emotion. The Herald did not have a choice. She was just some poor elven woman who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time – or perhaps the right – and now she could be dead. It was practically murder.

Cullen nudged her. “Is that movement?” he asked.

Cassandra glanced up, but through the snowstorm, she saw nothing. “Probably just wolves,” she said. They had been howling all night. _Maker, if she is alive..._ Cassandra did not know what she would do. Was she going to pray? To offer some bargain? What could she give to the maker in exchange for that poor woman’s life?

“There!” shouted Cullen. He pointed, and Cassandra saw a figure slump toward them, into the valley.

“Maker, she’s alive!” Cassandra cried out. She ran forward with Cullen, plowing through the thickening snowdrifts. _Oh Maker, thank you_. She stumbled forward as the Herald slumped into the snow. Her small elven frame trembled and her skin had turned a sickening color. Both Cullen and her scooped the Herald forward. “It’s going to be all right,” Cassandra said. She pulled the frail frame into her arms, tugging her up, out of the snow. “You’re safe now.”

“Ka – ka...” Her words trailed off.

“What is it?” Cassandra hoisted her closer. She searched the woman’s face. Her tattooed skin had pulled taut, but now it relaxed.

Her whole body trembled in Cassandra’s arms. “Cold,” she whispered, and then was still.

Cassandra turned and began marching toward the encampment. “We need to get her by a fire. Now.”

Cullen marched after her, pulling a thick fur cloak fur off to try and drape it over the Herald’s body. “I’ll run ahead and fetch a healer,” he said.

Cassandra watched him wade ahead. She followed his footprints to move faster, but still felt like it was not enough. She was losing precious seconds. Anyone could see the Herald had been out too long. That she made it that far was nothing short of a miracle. Divine providence, even. _Maker preserve her,_ she thought.

At the camp, Mother Giselle and a small detachment of healers waited. Cassandra lay her down on the cot, waiting anxiously as people moved around her, tending to the Herald. She felt paralyzed with indecision. Did they need someone to fetch herbs? Could she build up the fire? But everything seemed to be tended to. She stood there, gaping, trying to help, yet doing nothing. Finally, Mother Giselle came to her and said. “You have done so much, Seeker. Please, go rest. I will call for you if you are needed.”

“Thank you, Revered Mother.” Cassandra found that actually walking away was troublesome. Her feet did not want to move. She glanced down at the Herald, _Lavellan_ , she corrected silently. With nothing else to do, she wandered to the makeshift war table. Their stratagems and maps lay strewn everywhere. None of it would make a bit of difference without a fortifiable base of operations.

“You care about her.”

Cassandra jumped and turned to see Leliana standing by her. The small smirk on her lips unsettled her, but she could not name why. “I care if she lives. I was the one that dragged her into the Inquisition, after all.”

“She chose to stay. I’m sure our elven friend could have found a way to leave Haven if she so desired. Mistress Lavellan is anything but soft-spoken.” Leliana sidled close and bumped her shoulder. “I am glad you have found a friend other than Varric, He can be poor company when he takes to writing all day.”

“As if I am friends with Varric,” she scoffed. Cassandra glanced over at where Lavellan lay. Only one healer and Mother Giselle tended to her at the moment. Her stomach clenched. Her heart clenched. The muscles in her shoulders had tightened to nearly a breaking point. She had become accustomed to tension, but this was nearly unbearable. “A friend,” she muttered. It would certainly explain the knot in her chest and stomach. “I suppose she is.”

Leliana’s smirk broadened into a full smile. “I am glad. These are dark times we face. If we cannot find friends while our enemies grow, that darkness may just consume us.”

“I just don’t want her to die,” Cassandra said.

“Well, if she doesn’t, perhaps you should get to know her better.”

Cassandra watched as the healer worked over Lavellan. What did she know of the dalish elf beyond her devotion to her clan and the people of Haven? What did she know beyond her kindness, beyond her self-sacrificing nature? Cassandra sighed in disgust. She did not measure up to Lavellan when she examined the heart of the matter. That was perhaps why her stomach was in so many knots. _Maker, if she lives, I swear I will not take her for granted again. I swear. I swear..._ Cassandra doubted she had any right to ask for the life of this one person, not when so many were spared the wrath of Corypheus already. That was all Lavellan’s doing. They needed her still, if they were to stand any chance of undoing what Corypheus had wrought.


End file.
